


Blake's 7: Believers

by Generic_Writers_Name



Series: Blake's 7: Survivors [3]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: British, F/F, F/M, Post-Canon, Science Fiction, Space Battles, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Generic_Writers_Name/pseuds/Generic_Writers_Name
Summary: "Very soon now, it will all end... The only way it was ever going to."32 years after Gauda Prime, on the last day of the Second Calendar... One ship and seven people will go forward, into the Light, and there will be a reckoning. A final one.Humankind will fall... and seven will make their final stand.
Series: Blake's 7: Survivors [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1315910
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This story is for my own entertainment and hopefully that of a few others. I don't own all of these toys; just playing with them.

* * *

**...**

**Prologue**

**Deep space, the year 277 of the Second Calendar**

The two squadrons of spaceships maneuvered around each other for some time before the first shot was fired, awaiting the point of maximum advantage. Each of the huge ships with its own array of computers, focused and intent on victory. Far away, the remote operators monitoring the outcome...

The onboard computer of DSV-2 received updates from the System in final preparation for combat. Included was one basic imperative to supercede all others - _All_. The rebels - the _Lost_ \- were to be utterly annihilated. All trace of their heresy was to be removed from the galaxy.

The first step was to destroy this squadron. With their ships removed, focus could be shifted to mounting an expedition to the centre of the galaxy to destroy the Lost's base... For that to happen, there had to be victory here and now.

To that end, the computer - currently nameless but one day soon to be known as Zen - was at the same moment as his counterparts on the other System vessels authorised to deploy the weapon.

* * *

The battle was fierce, the bombardment inflicted by the DSVs on each other brutal. Every possible stratagem was attempted, and swiftly countered by the opposing side - In time the System ships, including DSV-2, deployed their final resort - Their ultimate sanction.

* * *

Data from the battle was received, and swiftly collated and assessed by the System. The weapon was, to all intents and purposes, successful. The damage it had apparently done to the very fabric of the universe, while a concern, would be monitored and possible solutions if necessary considered. The loss in destroyed ships was a problem, but more genuinely troubling was the loss of contact with DSV-2 - It must be tracked down and retrieved - Priority 1.

Another problem designated as Priority 1 was the survival of the Lost - Their offensive squadron had been destroyed, this was a positive development, but for now the System lacked the means to mount the intended punitive expedition into the galactic core. New DSVs were being constructed, but it would take time before they were ready. In that time, the Lost could advance their own plans, possibly construct new vessels of their own - By now, they would know about the devastating weapons deployed in the battle, and may come up with an effective counter-strike.

This conclusion was unavoidable. By the time the System was ready, the Lost could have dispersed their heresy more widely among the stars... This was another problem, one designated Priority 2.

Work proceeded. A solution was found. All traces of the Lost's heresy would finally be traced and destroyed... However long it took.

* * *

**...**

**Chapter 1**

**Unnamed planet (designation classified), the year 279 of the Second Calendar (roughly concurrent with the original Liberator's voyage to Star One and initial confrontation with the first Andromedan invasion)**

The base was abandoned, and had been empty for some time until recent events. Most of the building lay quiet, its workshops and storage bays silently gathering dust. If anyone walked those deserted corridors, not that anyone currently was or was likely to, they might have stopped at the sound that suddenly echoed faintly through the facility. Not a sound anyone would expect to hear in this place, not even when it had been fully occupied.

The crying of a baby.

* * *

_"You can't call her that..."_

_"Why not?"_

His only response was to chuckle, eyes crinkling at the sides and practically disappearing for a moment. Then he waved his hand slightly, and stood up with a grunt. "All right then, she's _your_ child. It's up to you."

"She's _our_ child," said Rashel in a way that tolerated no contradiction. "Yours and mine."

 _Blake_ looked down at her solemnly, his mood changed as though a switch had been thrown - The clone was starting to think he needed another name, one of his own. After all, Roj Blake was still out there somewhere, _hopefully_ at least... There already _was_ a Roj Blake. _He_ was someone else, separate, more so with each day that passed.

"I'll stay with you," he assured her. "I'll help you. But... I'm not her father."

Rashel rocked the baby gently as she became restive, before shifting her grip, and stared up at him throughout. "You _should_ be..." she replied. "You can be."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "It means a great deal. But"-

-"Why are you so opposed to the name?" she asked.

"I'm not _opposed_ to it," he protested. "It's just..."

"What?"

"I... It just doesn't seem right, somehow."

"I disagree," said Rashel with calm certainty. "And I'm not sure what you mean."

"It's up to you," he reiterated, and turned away.

"You said that," she responded, making him stop and turn back before he reached the door. "But I want you to like it." He considered that, before slinging the bag over his shoulder.

"Perhaps I'll get used to it."

* * *

**34 years later**

The ship made a virtue of its nondescriptness. Its stubby shape, its dull-grey slightly pitted, hull, everything about it actively deflected attention. During its years of service in the area for which it was perfectly suited, all but the most experienced enforcement officers would have failed to notice its significance. It, like its succession of owners going back over the previous fifty years, was a smuggler.

The pilot became aware he was not alone on the cramped flight-deck fairly quickly - Or so he assumed. He somehow sensed the passenger was capable of moving with impressive stealth, so could not be absolutely sure how long she had been there. "Hi," he called back to her. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," said Blake, raising her head slightly. "But then, I didn't really try."

She absently scratched her scalp, and as an afterthought ran her fingers through thick curly dark hair, trying to tidy it. All the time, she was watching the view forward - Maybe she didn't entirely trust him. After all, why would she? In his business. To say nothing of hers - If there was anything usually regarded as less trustworthy than a smuggler, it was a politician. All the same, this one was hardly typical.

"No bodyguard?" he asked cheerfully.

She looked at him assessingly, and as she leaned forward a little her notably large dark eyes emerged from the shadows that had hidden them. "I don't need a bodyguard," she replied coolly. "What makes you think that's what she is?"

"Your companion...? I've seen enough of them," he said. "I read people pretty well... You have to, in this game. So that's not _all_ she is, then?" That last part was thrown in quite casually, and it took Blake a moment to register it. Her expression changed, became cold.

"You're impertinent."

"Nothing in our contract says I can't be," he countered, and against her initial instincts, Blake smiled. " _That's_ the real you," he said, matching hers with a smile of his own.

"I never actually read the contract," said Blake, moving forward to sit next to him.

"Quite right. I never do either." He began to concentrate a little more on the controls. "That's odd."

"What?"

"No, never mind... Just a strange reading... Like something was there for a moment, moving parallel to us. But that's pretty unlikely, isn't it?" He looked at her steadily, questioningly.

"I'd say very unlikely indeed," Blake confirmed. "But not impossible."

"Don't worry, I'll have all sorts of systems screaming at me if there really is something that close... Till that happens, we can relax."

"I don't do that," said Blake.

"I dare say you don't, Madam President."

"So you know."

" _Well_ , you are pretty famous."

"Not where you're from," she said. "Or so I thought. That was why I came so far to charter a ship."

"I'm a spacer," he said. "I'm from everywhere. And nowhere."

She smiled again. "I bet you always try to get around to saying that."

"Guilty... And everyone in my circle knows who President Blake is."

"That's mainly a courtesy title."

"So... Any relation?"

After a short pause, Blake replied. "I often get asked that."

"How often do you answer?"

"Not very. You're a very talkative pilot."

"You're quite a talkative passenger. Once you get going, like."

"My name isn't really Blake," she said quietly, surprised by her own willingness to venture that information.

"All right," he replied. "My name isn't really Dem."

"I didn't know your name _was_ Dem."

"It wasn't. Never has been."

Despite herself, Blake was smiling again. "Right. Of course."

The alarm was brief, almost instantly cut off by Not Dem - an automatic response from a man very used to the controls of this ship. He peered into his row of monitors, studying the readouts, skimming, piecing together what had caused the alert.

"What is it?" Blake demanded.

"It's all right," he said, distracted. "It's just..."

"What...?"

"Yeas, it seems there is something out there, after all... For a moment there, just the briefest moment... They got careless. Or..."

"Or they're no longer trying to hide."

He turned to her. "Is that a suggestion? Or do you know something...? Now's the time."

She shook her head, and began to secure herself using the safety belt. "I would suggest you're being paranoid, but I don't really blame you. Let's just say, anyone likely to be following us on this trip... There's a strong possibility they don't mean us well. That's all I have, I swear."

"Right..." He gave the controls his full attention again. "Oh... Got another glimpse, there... Hey, looks like they're moving away now, whoever they are." He grinned. "Yeah, it's fine... It's all right. I've seen this sort of thing before, happens all the time." He turned back to her. "We're going to be fine."

That was when the other ship fired its first salvo.

* * *

**The planet Krikteon - 3 months later**

_I never thought it would be me._

The heavy doors slid open with a grinding and creaking that demonstrated their age and degree of wear, and the passage of time since they were last reliably maintained. Dust swirled in the beam of light that penetrated the gloomy corridor.

_It was never supposed to be me. I was an advisor. It was never meant to fall to me. None of it._

The slender legs encased in high boots covered the distance swiftly, the sound echoing loudly in the narrow passageway. The traveling cloak billowed out to momentarily create a broad silhouette for its slim-built wearer - beneath, a short dress of a lilac-coloured shiny material. The red-gold hair which had once framed the delicately-beautiful features in thick waves was now short, the full lips coloured dark-red in stark contrast to her pale skin.

Flanking her, the fully armed Unified Systems soldiers in their distinctive black uniforms, their blank-faced helmets with attached breathing apparatus. Like the Federation troopers of old, it was ostensibly so that the soldiers would be ready for hostile environments at a moment's notice, but most had no trouble discerning the real reason for the stark appearance that robbed them of the humanity underneath.

Intimidation. This procession was velvet glove and iron fist combined.

The helmets were also useful as a housing for the devices they all had, a variant on the old limiter implants designed to suppress violent emotions and antisocial behaviour, twisted of course by the Federation's cyber-surgeons to include undesirable thoughts of any sort. These suppressors, though they worked on a similar principle, were not so invasive, acting from outside the skull and intended to suppress the neurochemical imbalance associated with various forms of mental illness.

Their record when it came to suppressing the hallucinations reported on this planet over the last thirty years was patchy, but without the devices it was unlikely even the bravest would set foot here at all. The silent planet, that's how many referred to Krikteon. Well, once it had been far from silent.

No one who didn't have to would come here, and garrison duty was one of the least sought after assignments in the Unified Systems military corps, just as once it had been in the Federation Space Service.

Krikteon was cursed.

* * *

"Madam," the gaoler greeted Juni cordially. He was disheveled, unshaven... He had a wary, guarded quality, like he wasn't sure what to expect - but then, this wasn't exactly normal.

"I'm here to see the prisoner," said Juni.

"Yes," the man replied, but it still seemed to be a long time before he reached for the small hand-held device that would grant them access to the cell. "You know-?"

-"I know who he is, I know what he is," said Juni. "And I take full responsibility." The man nodded slowly and, still a little hesitant, inserted his device into the lock and at length he inputed his passcode and allowed her access.

 _This was supposed to be you, Blake... But then you left. You left it all to me._ _I never thought it would be me._

* * *

_"Come in,"_ said the prisoner, his manner calm and contained, seemingly fully assured that he was the one in charge. "I've been expecting you."

He sat upright on the bench, somehow he had managed to locate himself in such a way as to merge into the shadows of the gloomy cell. Juni was tempted to call for the lights to be switched on, but felt that might be showing weakness. Not something it was wise to do in the presence of this man, prisoner or not.

"You've been expecting someone, perhaps," she said. "But not"-

-"No." The large dark shape shifted as the prisoner turned to face her, and she caught a faint glint as his eye reflected a little of the light from outside. "I've been expecting _you_. It's time we met, you and I."

She decided to take a different approach. "You took a chance coming back here."

"No I didn't," he replied. "And even if I did, so have you." He turned away from her again. "It was less risky than you imagine. After all, no one knew I was alive."

Juni moved in close, daringly so. "You're _not_ alive," she said quietly.

He seemed to smile faintly - Though she couldn't see it, Juni could practically hear him doing so. "If I'm dead, what does that make you?"

"We're not the same," said Juni.

"Of course we are," he cooed. "Neither of us should still be here..." He fixed her with his steely gaze once more, and this time her eyes were accustomed to the dark enough to see his craggy face, partly-hidden underneath the black mask, enough to make out his strong jawline. "You know that's true."

Abruptly, his left arm straightened and snapped into place to point at her, fingers extended, the servos in his joints audible as was the creaking of the heavy black tunic. Despite herself, Juni stepped back, and her pulse did speed up a little for just a few seconds.

"The weapon is disabled," she told him calmly.

"I know," he said, but it was still a few seconds before he let the arm drop again.

"You're lucky it was straightforward enough to do that. It means you got to keep the arm."

"I just wanted to see how you would react." He leaned back, apparently satisfied he had made his point, and Juni moved round to make it more difficult for him not to look at her.

"How much do you remember?" she demanded.

He paused before answering. "From before...? Not everything, probably. But most of it."

"You _are_ him, then," she breathed. "You really are Travis."

He smiled faintly again. "For my sins."

* * *

**3 months earlier**

Blake finally reached the high ground and collapsed, sheer exhaustion as well as the excruciating pain in her leg playing its part. She allowed herself a few moments, a few blissful moments, to rest... Moments that became minutes.

She started awake, and forced herself to become alert again. She hadn't come up here to rest, she had come here for the vantage point it offered. _Now..._ What could be seen? Staying low, she hugged the top of the ridge and peered down into the valley, dreading what might be revealed.

She saw the disabled front section of the ship, the one she had extricated herself from, and again in her mind's eye she saw the face of the pilot. Dem... No, not Dem, his name apparently could have been anything other than Dem. The dead staring eye... The other eye, gone... The face caved in.

She banished the image, forced it from her mind. The man was dead. Dwelling on that wouldn't help him, nor would he want to be remembered that way. There was still... Hope stirred in Blake again as she searched with tired eyes for the rear section of the ship, hoping _against_ hope...

 _There._ There it was, and Blake felt something in her like a light going out as she took in the strewn wreckage, the carnage left by the drop through the atmosphere and the brutal impact. Hope died as she forced herself to accept it... No one could have survived that.

She could not have survived that.

 _Avral_ could not have survived.

She stumbled back down the slope, less careful now. Partly because the vantage point had revealed no sign of immediate danger in the area, and partly, if she was honest, because she no longer cared quite so much for her own survival.

She was tired, so tired. Beyond tired. Tired of being _Blake_. That wasn't even her... It was as much a disguise, a mask, as _Mara_ had been. A facade, to hide... What? What was there beneath?

What was she really? The orphaned offspring of the one brief and unhappy copulation of a slave prostitute and an embittered engineer...? A misfit on Pelios, an alien on the world she had thought was her home...? Daughter of Blake...? The gullible and those who thought that leadership was somehow genetic, could go on believing that if they wished, but that didn't make it true.

She was perhaps the most accomplished con artist in history... but now it seemed her luck had finally run out. Blake stumbled, and the pain shot through her leg again, almost enough to make her scream. She couldn't move much further like this.

She stopped, and looked over at the wreckage of the front section.

* * *

"Who wanted Blake dead?"

"Lots of people," Travis replied. "You want a list?"

"No, just a name. Was it Scarn?"

"You seem to know everything already. Why are you asking me?"

"How much were you paid?"

"I'm not a mercenary," he stated coldly, and Juni thought that this might finally be it. A tiny chink in the armour, a weakness she could exploit.

"So what are you?"

"I often wonder..." He peered at her assessingly in the dim light. "So do _you_ , I'm sure..."

"I'm not like you," she insisted again.

"You're more like me than anyone else is... Like me, you're an orphan. Like me, you've found meaning in service to something larger than yourself... Like me, it betrayed you. Like me, you had _her_ to guide you. Till you didn't."

"Stop now," Juni said quietly.

"Like me, she wouldn't even let you die."

"Servalan didn't bring _you_ back."

"Not this time. But without her, I'd have been gone and forgotten long ago. She might not have cloned me, Vuun did that, but _she_ made me immortal."

"Immortal...?" Juni actually found it in herself to smile. "That remains to be seen." She eyed him coldly, the threat now in the open.

"That's more like it," said Travis. "More like _her_... Well done. You're getting there."

Juni's eyes widened just a little, and she stared at him for several seconds. "Where is that ship of yours...?"

"I won't tell you. Where is Blake...? I won't tell you. You'll just have to move straight to pretending to lose your temper, and after that you'll have to move on to torture and mind probes, though possibly not in that order. Because... I won't tell you anything you _think_ you want to know. Not here."

"Yes, of course. Only if we take you somewhere easy to escape from."

"This place is easy to escape from."

"Of course," she mocked him. "You could get out of here so easily... If you wanted to."

"That's right. But then, you and I would not have had this chance to talk."

"Where is Blake?!"

He smiled. "Shouting... Torture... Mind probe. Then more solitary confinement, then start all over again. I know the playbook, in fact I helped write it. It works eventually, for the most part. But how much time do you really have?"

"Take me to wherever you left her... dead or alive, it makes no difference. And I'll let you go."

"Even if she's dead?"

"Even if she's dead."

"Now, we're negotiating. Like I said, you're getting there. Once you've betrayed me, killed me possibly, then you'll have gotten there." His visible eye widened. "Then you'll be like _her_. Like Servalan. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

* * *

A few minutes later, Blake continued, walking more easily after her brief return to the wreck. Halfway down her thigh, tied tightly but not too tightly, a piece of the strap that had secured her in her chair, used to reduce the swelling in her knee. Just enough to make walking bearable. Just.

So now she could walk. Where to walk, then...? What now?

The arid rocky landscape offered little, and from the ridge she had seen it continue on and on like this for at least a day's walk in every direction. Even if she could find somewhere, what then...? She wasn't likely to find anyone to _help_ her here.

She sat on the ground, practically letting herself drop. Rationalising it as economy of movement, and a little kinder to her vulnerable knee when a more careful motion might have put extra strain on it, but she knew it for what it actually was. Despair.

She bowed her head, and let herself doze for a while.

_"Blake...!"_

The voice must have been in her imagination. It must have been. No one could have survived that. No one. Yet...

Once, long ago, someone had survived such a crash... _She_ had. If she could do it...

Blake looked up, letting herself hope, ready to have it cruelly dashed. There, silhouetted against the light of the planet's star...

"You're lucky I found you," said Avral, reaching down to clasp Blake's hands and pull her to her feet. "Here, quickly... This way. I've found somewhere we can shelter. We don't want to spend the night out here."

"Avral..." Blake's voice was weak, even if she found herself able to move with a renewed energy. "How...?"

"I was thrown clear," said Avral. "Come on, I know you're hurt, but it's just a little further, I promise."

"I..." Blake let herself smile. "Stop... Just for a moment. Please."

Avral stopped, and turned, and to her surprise found herself enveloped in a tight hug. She smiled too, and when they drew apart slightly she accepted the kiss. "It's been a while," she said when it was over. "I thought we weren't"-

-"I thought I'd lost you."

Avral took a while to reply to that, eyes shining with unshed tears. "That's not possible," she said at last.

* * *

"I have a message for you," said Travis abruptly, momentarily disrupting Juni's train of thought as she prepared to resume the interrogation. She proceeded as if he hadn't spoken.

"I want to know what happened," she demanded. "We know your ship met with the one Blake hired, a week after her disappearance... You are the only one left who knows her whereabouts... Where is she?"

"Don't you want to hear the message?"

"Tell me where she is, tell me what happened three months ago, and I'll take you with me back to Prautan. A much safer place than"-

-"Don't you want to know who it's from...?" he inquired. Then after a pause, he added quietly, _"Darling girl..."_

Juni stepped back involuntarily, trying not to show how shaken she was, but Travis was used to identifying and exploiting weakness. He pressed his advantage further.

"You're not actually _surprised_..." he observed calculatingly. "Could it be...?"

"Why did she leave...?" Juni demanded. "Why, just when we needed her most?"

"Do you mean Blake? You didn't need her, you're doing a perfectly good job..." Travis seemed amused now. "Assuming the object is to lose as much UniS territory as possible to the Children of Light, assuming the object is to lose as much ground politically to the Scarn loyalists... That is the object, I take it."

"It's clear now I'm wasting my time." Juni turned to go. "Enjoy the rest of your life, if it can be called that."

"Or was it you?" he asked. "Did Blake sense it somehow...? Her chief advisor, deceiving her, betraying her..."

"I have never... betrayed her. Would never"-

-"You never did tell her, did you?"

"Shut up."

"Why not?"

Unable to quite believe what she was doing, Juni answered him. "I didn't know what effect it might have. Telling her. It never seemed to be the right time. And we needed her, just as she was."

"Needed? Don't you mean _need_?"

They looked at each other warily for so long that Juni began to wonder if seconds or whole minutes had passed.

"You've moved on," Travis said quietly, almost soothingly. "That's good. You don't need Blake any more."

"Is it me you're saying that to...?" Juni asked him. "Or yourself?"

"You've seen her too, haven't you?" Travis shot back. When Juni looked confused by the question, he added, "I don't mean Blake. You know who I mean."

She just stared back at him.

"Or just heard... It can begin that way."

"What can?"

"It's why Blake came here, the last place you traced her to... Did you ever wonder about this place...? Why they placed the whole population in lockdown, and why to this day that lockdown is still in force...?"

"Everyone knows why."

He snorted. "Planetary madness? A whole population all becoming dangerously insane at the same time. Seeing things, hearing things...? Mass suicides?"

"It's still under investigation, and the President's office is kept"-

-"They didn't go mad," he said. "It just happened here first. Here is where it began, but soon enough it will happen everywhere. For some, a little more sensitive perhaps, it has begun already."

"What do you know?"

"They started coming back. Not everyone, not all of them, just some... _Here_ , it was all of them, because we're so close to it. I can see this is making more sense to you than you want to admit... You've seen her too." Seeing Juni's reaction, subtle though it was, he pressed home. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't have that look on your face. Why deny it? You need hide nothing from me."

Juni turned and left, without another word. Travis smiled in the dark, counting his interrogation to have been successful.

* * *

**Unnamed planet (designation classified), the year 279 of the Second Calendar**

Clone Blake did his rounds for the day. In truth, the facility that he and Rashel had made their home did not, for the moment at least, require an enormous amount of maintenance, nor was the requirement to access stores for their daily essentials particularly onerous. Certainly, the requirement for him to shift around sometimes weighty supplies did not push him anywhere near his limits, and he found himself thankful he had been created from a rugged, sturdily-built individual like Blake. If he had the body of some spindly Federation clerk, perhaps this life of his would be a little more challenging.

 _So..._ Hefting the bag slung across his broad shoulder, he stopped halfway down the familiar corridor on his way back. In this strange life in which he had found himself, where could he look to for challenge?

Back to... What? His family? Could they really be said to be...? Blake smiled. With a new sense of purpose, he returned home.

* * *

He came back into the room and deposited the fully-laden bag on the table. Rashel looked over to him and smiled faintly, still busy attending to her child's sanitary needs. Blake stayed at a distance, even after nearly three weeks still not quite inured to the overpowering smell. "The name," he said simply.

"What about it?" she asked.

"You're right," he conceded.

"You like it?"

"I like it," he confirmed. Rashel turned back to her task, still smiling, and leaned in close to her daughter's widely-staring face - Those eyes, so much like... _His_. That was all right. She bore Coser no ill-will, and at least that troubled man had achieved one _good_ thing with his life even if he had never had the chance to know it.

She smiled more broadly. "That's it decided, then," she said quietly and soothingly. "You have a name..." she told the child, and looked up again at the clone to find him glancing sidelong back at her. He produced a grin to match hers.

* * *

**Krikteon**

Juni made limited use of the facilities made available to her, hurriedly showering and returning to the clothes that in the meantime had been cleaned. While adjusting the dress, she heard a sound in the room behind her, and turned. Nothing there.

She was not particularly perturbed. This was commonplace for her now... The first few times, those had been genuinely troubling.

_"Darling girl..."_

Was that in her head, or an actual sound in the room? Either way, Juni ignored it and finished dressing herself, and moved out into the main room of the dilapidated guest quarters. She activated the communication equipment, inputed her passcode for the most secure of channels, and waited for the response.

Absently, her eyes searched the gloomy corners of the suite. What she expected to see... Perhaps she had thought, if anywhere, it would happen here... _Here_ , where it apparently began. Where the dead started returning.

Servalan was gone. She had as good as told her that, four years ago in their last communication, and then Blake told her Avon had confirmed it. Strange as that all seemed. It was hardly definitive, but somehow, Juni knew it was true. Servalan was dead. And yet...

* * *

_"I'm sorry. I know you were hoping for more."_ Lenta Guld's voice crackled slightly, her voice over the subspatial communications network subject to considerable interference and compression. It was clear enough, however, for Juni to detect the undercurrents in her tone.

She leaned forward a little at the desk. "But _you_ told me otherwise, _I know_. I had to try."

_"Of course you did. I would have done the same."_

Juni smiled faintly. "No, you wouldn't."

_"What's to be done with him? Will you transfer him back here?"_

"That's what I thought. But now... I'm thinking this might be as good a place as any to keep him. I mean, would _you_ come here if you didn't absolutely have to? The reputation of this place might be better than the thickest walls and a hundred troopers."

_"True... One would have to be exceptionally motivated."_

"I haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll have another go at breaking him here. Unless... Should I hurry back? How are things there?"

_"Don't worry, they're no worse."_

"No one has actively called for rebellion, then. That's good."

 _"Says the former rebel."_ Lenta's image was indistinct, but Juni could see her smile.

"Is that inevitable, do you think? Do we become the things we fight against?"

 _"I honestly wasn't prepared for that question,"_ said Lenta dryly. _"Can I sleep on it?"_

"I think we both should," said Juni, realising just how tired she was.

 _"We will find them, you know,"_ Lenta tried to reassure her. _"It's only a matter of time."_

Juni had no real reply to that, and simply bade Dr Guld goodbye before shutting the equipment down - not before thoroughly deleting all the retrieval signets, wiping all trace of the conversation. Again, she checked the device she had installed on arrival that would disrupt any secret recordings that might be made in these quarters. All second nature by now.

She went to the window, and looked out on the silent city. The silent planet. She wasn't really looking out there, the image in her mind was of a familiar long face, framed by dark curly hair and dominated by large dark eyes. The best friend she had ever had, not that that was a very long list to choose from.

 _"I should have told you,"_ she practically whispered, voice hoarse. "I should have... I should have told you _your name_..." She placed a hand against her face, wiping away the tears which had started to form. "You have a right to know your own name... and I had no right to keep it from you. It was _you_... It was always _you_ , Blake. You thought you were pretending, thought you were deceiving... But it really was _you_ all the time."

* * *

Rashel turned her attention back to the baby. "Yes, you have a name now... You have a name."

"Well..." the clone prompted her playfully. "Tell her."

Rashel smiled, and leaned forward again. "Your name..." she confided as the baby stared up at her, "is Blake."


	2. Chapter 2

_"Show me someone who believes in anything, and I will show you a fool."_ \- Kerr Avon _  
_

*******

**The planet Pelios, the 458th year since the Foundation**

"How old are you now?"

"Seventeen."

"Well-"

"-I think."

"You _are_ seventeen."

"If you know, why did you ask?"

Dorra did not immediately respond. Instead she sat back in her chair and peered at the girl assessingly. Indeed, that was the entire purpose of this meeting - to assess.

Mara just looked back, indifferent, bored-looking. Or at least, Dorra thought, that was the appearance she wanted to give. This girl _did_ care about what was decided here, Dorra knew that and she would prove it. To her own satisfaction, to the other absent members of the committee, and ultimately, to Mara herself.

"Name?" Dorra demanded, her voice lashing out like a whip. Mara jumped a little in her seat.

"Mara," she replied, luminous dark eyes briefly shooting up toward the domed, gleaming white ceiling of the meeting chamber. "But I think you know that too."

"Do you know how you came to be called that?"

The girl was a little nonplussed by the question. "How would I?"

Dorra tried not to let her relief show, but a little did creep through her guard anyway. "Good."

"Did Alek name me?"

Dorra had glanced briefly at her pad and the notes she had stored in it, but her eyes darted back to the girl in response to the question. "What makes you say that?"

"Nothing specific. I just wondered."

"Good." Back to the notes.

" _Why_ is that good?"

"You know what a Mara is?"

The girl shrugged. "Something from some ancient mythology. A legend. Some kind of spirit that attacks you in your dreams."

"Attacks?"

Another shrug. "All right, I know, there's more to it than that. Some of them are good, some of them are bad."

"And is that how you see everything? Good and bad? Where are you in that philosophy?"

"There are good people," insisted Mara. "And bad people."

"Here on Pelios?"

"Especially here."

"Are you good?" Dorra inquired. "Or bad."

"Define them for me properly, and I might be able to answer that." Taking a long breath, Dorra decided not to get drawn any further down that path, and moved on, but before she could, the girl spoke again. "I only know what I think, and feel."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you _think_ it means?!" The girl almost stood, ready to storm out perhaps, but something stopped her. Her hands gripped the arms of her chair tightly.

Dorra's eyes narrowed. "Are you then the arbiter of what is good and what is bad?"

Mara responded slowly and quietly. "What kind of question is that?"

"The Cees," said Dorra abruptly, changing tack once again.

"What?" Mara could not help but let her impatience show.

"You fraternise with them a great deal."

"How can I not? I live among them, most of the time. I _am_ one of them."

"Only by default."

"What if..." Mara leaned in a little closer to the old woman, anger showing. "What if I _want_ to be one of them? What then?"

" _What_ then?" Dorra turned the question back over to her.

"Would that be a waste? Would you rather have another Bee, another faceless technician or bureaucrat? Is that the future you have planned for me?"

"I have no future planned for you," said Dorra dismissively. She started to close down her notes on the pad, apparently a precursor to finishing their meeting. "You're mistaken."

Mara was genuinely confused. "I thought-"

"-Who told you otherwise? Did someone tell you were special? A woman of destiny? A dream come to life?" Dorra leaned in closer now. "A dream? Or a nightmare?!" She exhaled briefly in apparent contempt. "Before I for one allow you to become a Bee, you would have to prove yourself to a far higher standard than any you have met thus far."

"And if I didn't want to be either? Not Bee or Cee?"

"That would require even more," Dorra A mused. "You think yourself capable?"

"Perhaps," said Mara. "I'm just not sure I want it enough."

"There is something else you want more? Somewhere else for you to be?"

"Possibly." Mara shrugged once more. "Till then, I suppose I'll do my best toward qualifying."

"To become an A?" At the girl's acknowledgment that was indeed what she meant, Dorra smiled coldly. "You think it's possible? You think, someday, you could become _me_?"

"I hope not," said Mara, and Dorra smiled properly at that.

* * *

**17 years later**

The Habitat on Pelios towered over the vast jungle, as it had for almost three hundred years. Smooth white, large viewing ports reflecting the harsh sunlight above treetop level. A symbol of power, resisiting the encroachment of the jungle. Inviolable. Almost inviolable. Some time ago, the Habitat had fallen.

The towers of the Habitat were silent, deserted. Below, however, in cavernous storage areas, there was still some activity...

* * *

The freight elevator lowered the two people, standing a few feet apart in uneasy silence, into the bowels of the Habitat. The flickering light played over their faces - One, the somewhat handsome young man with the faded but still noticable scar across his cheek. The other taller and older, cadaverous in his appearance - one eye closed in restful contemplation, the other entirely absent leaving an empty socket. Both wore a loose white robe, secured at the waist by a chunky belt for tools and weapons. The robe was white, except for the unique encrusted dark-red stain on each - their own blood, shed during the rite of initiation. These were high-ranking members of the Children of Light.

They strode unhurriedly toward the centre of the storage silo. Ahead of them, absurdly tiny compared to the space available, the distressed piece of spacecraft, torn from the hull of the former space freighter turned prison ship _London_.

"Why did you have us bring it here?"

Tylner looked over at Miko, his ravaged face, half-hidden by the hood, serene. "Tell _me_. You have all the information you need."

Miko thought for a long moment, looking over the wreckage with increasing desperation as he stretched his nearly exhausted wits to breaking point. As ever, he felt like he was being tested - always the way in Tylner's forbidding company. "There's no one left here... I mean, we've taken everyone off this pla-" With that, it came to him. "That's why. You wanted the facilities, without any people."

"No people?"

"Except us, obviously."

"There _is_ life here. That jungle is teeming with it."

"Not proper life. Not intelligent. Does that make it easier? Less interference?"

Tylner smiled faintly. "Yes. That is why."

Miko could still feel it, the raw emotion, the presence emanating from the section of hull - The terror, the confusion, the loss. Raw fear... and something else.

"You feel it?" Tylner wondered.

"Yes."

"You understand what it is?"

"The One."

"And what do you think the One is?"

"The One who was lost. Trapped before he could properly come through into our... reality. Our universe. He tried to merge with a man who was about to die... and was trapped."

"What an interesting story. You worked all that out for yourself?"

"No."

"Rumour, then."

Miko saw no point in dissembling. That was not a wise thing to do around Tylner, the truth was best. "Yes."

"Rumours often form around a small kernel of truth," said Tylner, "And that is the case here."

"But there's more."

"Of course."

"Has the time come... For me to learn... to be told?"

"Told?"

"The truth of who we are? What we are? What the Light actually is."

"It is... survival... It is liberation. It is belief."

"I'm sorry?"

"But no one can truly know, except those who have seen."

"And you, Tylner...?" Miko felt brave now, felt he had tacit permission to ask anything. "You have seen it?"

"With this eye..." said Tylner, reaching up to rub his empty eye socket. "The one that otherwise sees nothing... I saw."

"What...? Tylner, what did you see? Tell me..."

"It drove me insane. And then beyond." He turned to Miko. "That is the nature of belief."

* * *

Avral quickly located what Blake, in her exhausted state, first thought of as a cave, but as they moved into it she quickly realised it was really just a very small enclosed space created by an overhang of rock. Possibly it was an artificial creation, but so eroded over time it became indistinguishable from a product of the planet's violent geological past. Either way, it was convenient.

Very convenient.

She was so tired she just immediately slumped down onto the least uncomfortable patch of ground she could find, and drew her legs up - after slackening the strap around her thigh, of course. Avral knelt beside her, and after a moment shifted so that she sat as well.

 _"Who takes first watch?"_ Blake's own voice sounded very far away, and like that of a stranger. The shock of the crash was just hitting her, perhaps. To survive one such crash was unlikely, to survive two... But here she was.

_No one could have survived that._

" _I_ do," Avral replied matter-of-factly. "You're practically dead."

"True," said Blake. "Lucky not to be actually dead. We both are."

"Yes." Avral put her arms around Blake and held her close - for warmth, and just because she could. Despite their situation, Blake was fairly sure she hadn't seen her so happy since... Since the decision they had come to just before agreeing to take up Lady Shilena Mekatir's offer. What they had was a distraction they couldn't afford, for now at least. That all didn't seem to matter now - the task they had taken on together had failed.

Blake realised that was the first time she had actually fully accepted that. The experiment had failed. Good government for the Proxima system and for Unified Systems, failed. Totally. Only one thing had remained after that.

"I can't promise things will look better in the morning," said Avral. "But they will look _clearer_."

"Yes," said Blake. That was the last word spoken for a while, as they settled for the night. Blake wished she had some idea of just how long that would be, but there had been no opportunity to assess this planet's size, distance from its star, rotational axis or any other such factors. They had only had time to crash into it, and barely enough time even for that.

She smiled.

 _"What's funny?"_ There had been just enough light for Avral to see the smile.

 _"Everything,"_ said Blake. "If you look at it from the right angle."

After that, they stayed quiet. Avral probably thought she had fallen asleep, but although Blake's eyes closed for a while she did not sleep. Not then. She listened to Avral's regular breathing, felt the warmth of her body up against her, and after a while even became aware of the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. All of this was soothing, or at least would be... If Blake didn't have that nagging doubt.

Doubt turning into certainty.

The rear passenger section of the ship had been torn apart high in the atmosphere, that had been clear from the wreckage. Unmistakeable. Though it was the last thing she wanted to think about, Blake could not help but picture the multiple hull breaches taking place under the unbearable stresses of entry, imagined the intense heat as friction with the upper atmosphere caused the interior to heat up like an oven. No, far hotter than any oven.

 _No one could have survived that._ It was remarkable enough that the front section had stayed intact until impact, enabling Blake herself to survive. _Lucky._

She felt the softness of Avral's fine dark hair against her cheek, felt the benefit of the warmth her body produced, even - despite trying not to - took pleasure from the affection she had denied herself for the best part of four years... but Blake still felt hollow.

She knew the truth now. It was unavoidable.

_No one could have survived that._

* * *

_I was trapped..._

Both Tylner and Miko _felt_ the voice rather than heard it, felt it as a rhythm, a resonance, in their bodies and minds. Miko had to glance at the offputting visage of his superior to make sure he could feel it too. Of course he could.

"Yes," Tylner replied.

_But no longer..._

"No longer."

"Why has it taken this long?" Miko asked quietly. "We've had this for more than three-"

"-Time was needed," Tylner replied.

 _Very informative._ "The voice we're... hearing," Miko began. "Is that the man Nova, the one who died in the hull... Or is it-?"

"His name _was_ Nova," Tylner replied. " _Now_ , he is so much more. Entombed for thirty-six years, trapped... Now, he is free. Now, they can be whole."

"They?"

" _They_ ," said Tylner. "The others are coming."

* * *

Eventually, Blake slept. Not by choice, it hadn't been her intention, but she was so tired it was unavoidable. When she woke, it was daylight, and she soon became aware she was alone. _Alone!_

Scrabbling in the dirt, she quickly - _sort of_ quickly - got to her feet and looked out from under the overhang, listening for anyone in the immediate vicinity. Nothing.

_"Look what I found."_

The voice made Blake's heart jump and thump against her ribs painfully, but her brief panic soon subsided. Avral moved over and started peeling the charred pieces away from the box she had hauled back here from near the crash site. Blake recognised one of the supply cases from Not Dem's ship, and stood back to watch as her companion wrenched it open finally with a great deal of effort.

"Thrown clear?" she asked.

If Avral detected the slightly odd tone of the question she did not remark upon it. "Yes, it must have been." She opened the case, and then looked up and smiled. "Emergency rations."

"So I see."

"Well, that _is_ a bit of a break, isn't it?" said Avral, as she looked through the contents of the case. "Some water here, thankfully, we don't know yet how easy that will be to come by here." She looked up at Blake, and smiled. "We've been _worse_ off."

"Have we?" Blake moved to maintain the distance between them as Avral straightened up and approached her.

"What's wrong?"

"I saw the rear section of the ship after the crash."

"Yes," said Avral. "So did I."

"How far were you thrown?"

"What?" Avral had started sorting through the supply case again, and affected not to hear.

"Is her body still in there?" Blake asked, steeling herself not to break down, to keep going and ask the questions she wanted answers to, that only... this being could answer.

"Whose body?" Avral faced Blake again, still smiling but as their eyes locked and stayed that way, the smile eventually faltered and finally disappeared.

"What are you?" Blake demanded. "I need to know."

"You know who I am."

"I know what you look like," Blake conceded. "But I have no idea _who_ you are. What you are."

" _Most_ just accept it," said Avral. "They see what they want to see, and that's enough."

"I'm not _most_ ," said Blake, anger starting to come through.

" _You were expecting Avalon_..." Avral said hurriedly, holding up her hands almost beseechingly. "That's what you said when we first met. I was expecting an old man with a scarred face."

"I said _Give me time_..." Blake pondered.

"You did," Avral agreed. "The next day, we climbed...all that way. Just so I could show you Avalon's grave."

"She was testing me," Blake confirmed, refusing to say _You were testing me_.

"You passed," said Avral. "We kissed for the first time the day after, in the caverns on Karstus. Do I have to tell you what we did a few hours after that...? Before you believe-?"

"-You have her memories," said Blake calmly. "I get that."

"More than memories," said Avral with feeling, and moved closer. Whether it was because her knee locked, or because she didn't want to move, Blake let her do so. Avral's face was only a couple of feet away now, and Blake saw tears glistening in her eyes. "I _love_ you," she said.

"I loved _her_ ," said Blake. "What is it that you want from me...? Is that it? You need me to accept you, as if you're _her_. You want something, _need_ something from me? What?"

Avral drew back again, her expression solemn now. She seemed listless suddenly, as if realising she had lost. "You're strong," she said. "Most people would have given in, accepted what I offer. What she gave you, you will never find that again, you know that."

"Yes," said Blake. "I know."

"Few get to experience what you had with her," said Avral. "What I offered to return to you."

"I know that too."

"You're throwing that away."

"I did," Blake agreed. "But not in the way you mean." She looked out onto the planet surface. "Do they know I'm here?"

There was a pause before Avral answered. "They probably do by now."

Blake shifted her weight, and grimaced at the sudden pain. "I won't get far on this," she said ruefully, slapping her injured leg. "But then, I didn't come here just to escape."

"No."

"What will you do now?" Blake asked. "Will you continue to wear her face? How does that work?"

"Without her, I am nothing."

Blake began to begin to understand. "I see... No, I don't really. Will you wait for them to turn up? Will they be able to see you as well?"

Before she had finished speaking, Avral just wasn't there any more. Blake looked around, and if the supply case and its unpacked contents hadn't been there, she would have entertained the notion that Avral had never been there at all.

But then, Avral hadn't. Avral had not survived.

_No one could have survived that._

* * *

"So," Dorra began, "Before I let you go, before I allow myself to go, what have we concluded from this little... informal discussion?"

"Informal?" Mara was skeptical.

"Oh, yes... Make no mistake. When the time comes for you to be truly assessed, _formally_ , you will know the difference. It will not be in this setting, and it will not be by _me_."

"I can't wait."

"One thing still troubles me."

A single dark eyebrow arched. "Only one thing?" Mara pushed a lock of dark curly hair out of the way and felt around the new port burrowed into her temple - It was painless, it was even discreet, but its presence still felt like an intrusion. Dorra seldom even thought about hers any more.

"Yes... Just one more thing. One more question, _Mara_."

"Go ahead."

"What do you believe...? Do you believe in anything?"

"That's _two_ questions."

"One merely predicated on the other. You see, I can play your game. Why don't you play mine, just this once?"

"Why not?" Mara seemed bored now. "What have I to lose? You can't take away my Cee grade."

"Not usually." Dorra took a breath." _Nothing_ matters to you? I wonder what would happen if you ever do lose something important... Or some _one_." A pause, Dorra seeming briefly - very briefly - to lose focus. Quickly, though, she was back and intent on getting her answer. "Well...?"

"Well?"

"Do you believe in anything? Anything at all? Even yourself?"

"Oh, yes..." Mara smiled to herself, secretively. "I'm a believer."

* * *

Blake was alone now, truly alone, when they came for her. She stood unsteadily as they filed into the overhang and moved out to surround her.

"Well..." she said. "I've come."

"You've been expected," said one of the white-robed Lightseekers.

"There was another here," said one of the others, and Blake's glance shifted to him.

"There was," said Blake. "She's gone now." A faint smile, very faint, tears welling in her eyes. "It's a good thing... It's for the best."

"Your friend is dead?"

Blake did not answer for a few moments, seeming withdrawn, distracted. Finally, when they began to think she had not heard the question, she looked up at them and focused again. "Yes... Yes, she _is_ dead."

"And you believe that is for the best?" The man's tone was wary.

"Oh, yes," said Blake. "I believe."


End file.
